


Better Than Real Life

by domesticadventures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Gen, Headspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3898582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domesticadventures/pseuds/domesticadventures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You imagine a thousand different scenarios where something happens that’s anything but this, anything but walking into that same room to find your mother lying in the exact same spot you left her years ago.</p>
<p>It’s not that far a leap to imagine yourself somewhere else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Real Life

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["Real Life" by Aurora](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_D8BBu8Ams) which I only know about from listening to my husband's trance party CDs because we're both super cool

If _The Hobbit_ taught you anything, it’s that even small people can accomplish great things.

You’re twelve years old and you’re not trying to save the world. You’re just trying to spend the night with your friends and be happy and have fun. It should be easy, compared to what Bilbo faced.

You feel young and pathetic and nothing close to great when you call your parents and ask them to come pick you up. Your parents don’t tell you that, though. They say it’s okay, it’s okay to miss home, it’s okay to be scared. Your parents get out of bed and into their car and come for you anyway.

It’s the last time for a long time anyone really gives a shit about you.

It’s not the last time you miss home.

\--

Adults love to tell you all sorts of things, after that. They offer you all sorts of meaningless condolences, make all sorts of empty promises. They tell you “I’m so sorry,” they tell you “it’ll get better,” they tell you and tell you and it doesn’t change anything.

They tell you what to do, too, like they’re your parents, and that part’s the worst.

No one is as sorry as you. It’s not going to get better. And they’re not your parents. You know these things are true. If the adults don’t, you figure they can’t be much smarter than you are.

You can’t quite bring yourself to be interested in school, when you finally go back. Your teacher tries to get you to engage. He tells you _I understand this is hard for you_ and you say _I fucking doubt it_ and then he tells the principal and the principal tells the counselor and soon they’re going to write “anti-authority disorder” in your file like it’s that simple. Like understanding you is as simple as sketching out a character sheet with your stats, your key personality traits.

See, it’s not that you hate authority. It’s just that you don’t believe most adults really have any.

\--

You spend years fantasizing about the way this visit is going to go, concocting hundreds of self-insert scenarios, your own personal fanfiction.

You imagine showing up and finding her awake, smiling, reading a book. You imagine getting a joyful call from the hospital just as you’re getting on the bus, come quick, it’s a miracle. You imagine scientific breakthroughs and angels descending from on high and plain old ordinary luck.

You imagine a thousand different scenarios where something happens that’s anything but this, anything but walking into that same room to find your mother lying in the exact same spot you left her years ago.

It’s not that far a leap to imagine yourself somewhere else entirely.

\--

You meet her at your first con and spend the rest of the weekend together. By your fourth con, you’re fast friends. By the end of the sixth, you’re in her bed, fumbling together under the sheets.

_I want to take you somewhere,_ she says, after.

_Oh?_ you whisper. _Where? Another con?_

She grins at you in the dark, brushes your hair from your forehead, tender in a way no one has been in years.

_ Another world. _

\--

Here’s the thing about Moondoor: No one has any authority they did not earn.

You’re just a handmaiden, now, but someday you’re going to be queen.

You get made fun of for it, sometimes, by people who don’t understand, people who accuse you of pretending to be something you’re not.

You’ve been a lot of things, but you’ve never been delusional. You know this isn’t real. It’s not real life. It’s comforting, though. It’s practice.

You only play a hero, here. But someday, you’re actually going to be one.

You just know it.

 


End file.
